


Surprising, unplanned and wonderful

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, ABO with no sex?, Cuddling, Fat Shaming, Fluff, Food, I call the Sheriff Andrew, Jackson's a douche, M/M, Malia/Kira - Freeform, Malia/Stiles but they break up, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Stiles in college, There may be sex yet, Werewolf Courting, and ABO courting, background Allison/Isaac, background Scott/Allison, third gender omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an omega happy with his gender and looking to court the right alpha and be courted back. Three guesses who the right alpha is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a lot of A/B/O fics where the omega "isn't like other omegas" and it started to remind me of a YA novel. So I thought maybe he could be happy with his gender. And I wanted courting and cuddling in a nest. Then it turned into this. *shrugs*
> 
> If I continue, it'll be chapters of their life together after they're bonded.

Stiles likes being an omega. Ever since he was a child, everyone assumed he would be, with his father a strong, assured alpha and his mother the family’s nurturing omega.

Sure, there’s some things that aren’t great about it, but overall, he’s happy with his gender. Maybe he can’t be a police officer, but he’s pretty confident he’ll find a place for himself doing something meaningful. It doesn’t have to be law enforcement, just something for him to do that helps people -  something he can do to make a difference.

Because that’s what it comes down to, that’s what being an omega means to him. It’s being helpful and supportive and taking care of people. Like he takes care of his dad now, making sure he eats well and goes to the doctor for regular blood tests.  It doesn’t seem like there should be anything wrong with that.

In school, he takes at least one home economics courses (creatively called Family Science) each year they’re offered, in addition to his math and chemistry classes. Not sewing, because that’s never going to happen, but he likes the cooking and nutrition courses. After all, he’s in charge of taking care of his dad now and everyone says the way to an alpha’s heart is through his (or hers – Stiles appreciates both) stomach. And the classes on child development are interesting, too.

Stiles had been spending time in a chatroom for omegas, one started by and is supposed to be supportive for teens. It was okay at first and it was good to talk with other omegas. After all, they’re only about 15% of the population, it’s not like he’s got a lot of live specimens to talk with. But it didn’t take long until most of the discussion was everyone saying they’re ‘not like other omegas’. Everyone saying they want to do things differently, they don’t like how alphas smell, they don’t want to take care of anyone and want a career and want to travel and see the world, blah blah blah blah. When Stiles says he wants to do those things too, but what’s wrong with seeing the world with an alpha by his side and maybe holding his child’s hand?

Needless to say, that didn’t go over too well and the people he thought were his friends all tell him that’s not enough and he shouldn’t buy into old ideas about what an omega is and what they should want. But isn’t it wrong trying to force him to be something other than what he is? They’re saying people want to force omegas into a role, but this is just another group of people trying to force their expectations on him?

He shows one post to Scott where he’s told, “You’re a voluntary f*cking victim of the alpha patriarchy.”

“Wow,” Scott says looking over his shoulder. “They don’t even spell out fucking?”

Stiles just shrugs and smirks. “We tend to be polite, even when we’re insulting someone. It’s another thing that’s inbred, I guess. Maybe I should point it out?”

For his next birthday, Scott gives him a t-shirt with that printed on it. Complete with the asterisk. Scott’s the best.

But there are a few people in the chat room who apparently feel the same as he does, and they start to private message each other. Soon they have their own space to talk about being a more traditional omega and what that means. It’s a good place for Stiles to hang out, especially considering his friends in real life.

Once upon a time, in real life, Stiles suggested that he and Scott go into the preserve and look for a dead body. Scott, of course, says, “Really?  A body? Stiles that doesn’t seem like a very safe – or omega – thing to do.”

“It’s a fun and exciting thing to do! And not everything has to do with what’s between my legs, Scott, god!”

So in real life he’s a human and an omega surrounded by werewolves, and other annoyingly strong creatures.  Sometimes they try to “protect” him, either because he’s a human or because he’s an omega, or maybe both. Sometimes it works, but more often it doesn’t.

And keeping track of everyone and their multiple labels is kind of a pain in the ass.

Derek is a male, and an alpha wolf, head of the pack. And he’s alpha gendered, like all the Hales. Sometimes Stiles wonders how they even have babies, but that’s a little too personal to ask.  Kira is a female, and a kitsune and her gender is beta and she’s a beta in the pack. The only other gendered omega he knows is Allison, who isn’t anything supernatural, but is certainly a kick-ass hunter and can take care of herself.

Scott is absolutely Stiles’ best friend, a male and a beta werewolf and a beta gender. He’s always been supportive of Stiles, telling him that if he wants to be a traditional omega, then he should do that.  And if part of being a caretaking omega means he wants to make his best friend macaroni and cheese, then Scott’s willing to eat it (with salsa). Taking one for the team, perhaps. And yeah, maybe Stiles owes him for that romp in the woods, but then again, super strength and all that.

The only one in the pack who gives him any grief is Jackson. Like Scott, he’s a bitten beta wolf, a male who is a beta gender. Unlike Scott, he’s a douche, occasionally making fun of Stiles’ care taking tendencies.

Along with taking care of herself, Alison is the unofficial care taker for most of the pack. Part of learning to be a hunter includes learning to bandage injuries and a surprising amount of other practical knowledge. And Alison’s omega gender allows her to provide creature comforts for most of the pack. Most of them.

For some reason, Stiles is the one who takes care of the Hales. All born wolves, all gendered alphas and all generally pains in the ass. Stiles started taking care of the Hales after dating Malia. Yes, their meeting wasn’t very conventional, and yes, she’s Peter’s daughter by genetics, but he thought their dating was pretty normal. And eventually, even the way she broke up with him was pretty normal, if you consider it’s Malia and she’s a Hale.

“This is weird,” Malia says, turning on her side to look at him after what he thought was pretty good sex.  It’s not as though he has a lot to compare it to, since they lost their virginity to each other, but still, it seemed okay. Since she’s an alpha and he’s an omega, there’s a few options for them and they’ve experimented a bit. Slowly and carefully because even though omegas rarely get pregnant outside of their heats, Stiles doesn’t want to be the poster child for exceptions can happen. Because not every omega needs to be a virgin when they mate, modern omegas are expected to have some experience. Just not the experience of bonding or of (god forbid) getting pregnant.

“What part’s weird?” he asks, catching his breath as he turns to look at her scowling face. He’s not sure he wants the answer. Malia’s not one to sugar-coat something.

“This. You, I guess. You’re so…hard,” Malia explains, poking him in the arm.

Stiles raises an eyebrow and says, “Normally, that’s considered a good thing. What’re you talking about?”

She pushes a finger into his bicep and then his chest and thigh. “Not like that, it’s this. All this is just weirdly hard, is all. Nothing is soft or cuddly. And you’re kinda hairy, too.”

“Well, some of that’s part of the whole ‘being a male’ thing, I think. And part of it’s running for my life in the woods while being chased by monsters.” Stiles flexes his arm, and it’s a respectable, if not spectacular, bicep. “Built up a little muscle over the past couple of years, omega or not.”

“Hmm, guess so,” Malia answers and flops back over on her back, cushioning her head on her arms.

“But if you’re unhappy, we should talk about it.” Stiles pushes himself up so he’s leaning against the headboard. “Is it me? Or is it all boys? Or men? Male-type people?”

She snorts and shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess all males would be the same, right? Hairy and muscular?”

“More or less,” Stiles answers, although Malia isn’t one for shaving herself. And it’s never bothered Stiles, she smells good to him. “So you want, soft and unhairy? Like girl soft and unhairy? Or unhairy male? I think Jackson shaves everything.”

Malia’s face softens and she smiles faintly at whatever she’s thinking. “Maybe? When you were going down on me, I was thinking about Kira, about it being Kira instead of you.”

“Well alrighty then,” Stiles says, swinging his feet over the bed and grabbing his discarded clothing with a sigh. “Yeah, guess maybe you like girls or girls as well as boys. At any rate, I think maybe we should break up?” He looks over his shoulder at Malia, putting her clothes in a stack next to her.  She shrugs and nods and he says, “I don’t know if Kira likes girls or not. I know she’s getting tired of Scott’s bullshit.”

Malia pulls Stiles’ comb through her hair, checking herself in the mirror over his dresser while he talks. “He can’t seem to make up his mind. He’s with Allison, he’s over Allison. He’s with Kira and then misses Allison. I’d be tired of it, too.”

“Yeah, and Allison can’t seem to decide between him and Isaac,” Stiles offers, pulling on his shoes. “Frankly, the whole thing seems ridiculous to me, and it does seem Kira’s treated like a spare.”

“She is!” Malia exclaims, turning to face him. “That’s what Scott does, doesn’t he? Allison is busy or back with Isaac and then Scott’s all attentive to Kira until the next time Allison calls!”

Scott is Stiles’ best friend, but even so, Stiles isn’t blind. And Kira’s much too nice to be treated this way. “True.” He looks at his girlfriend - his ex-girlfriend - and says, “You’d be nicer to her, right? Not be a dick like Scott is?”

Malia nods vigorously and says, “I would, I really would, Stiles!”

“Okay, let’s figure out how to get you hooked up with Kira.”

 

It turns out it’s not difficult getting them together, with Kira feeling Scott takes her for granted, running back to Allison whenever she looks upset or has a boo-boo. She’s not sure if it annoys Isaac or not, as he seems to hero-worship Scott as much as Scott just plain worships Allison. Either way, Kira knows she’s the third wheel and her friendship with Malia blooms.

Scott seems upset when she breaks up with him, but Allison and Isaac are there to console him. He doesn’t appear to notice when Kira and Malia start to spend more time together. Oh well, his loss, thinks Stiles. At least Scott’s got an omega looking after his needs.

 

The ones that don’t seem to have anyone looking out for them are the Hales. Yes, Malia is now doing something that looks like dating Kira (and Stiles isn’t sure Kira realizes it), but Derek, Cora and Peter, alphas all, are single. There’s no omega or even a concerned beta around to care for them the way an alpha needs.

He starts out small, just doing things that don’t single them out; he does things that help the entirety of the pack, not just the Hales. Okay, so maybe he knows that Malia has a fondness for anything with cinnamon and so he makes sure to bring a spicy-sweet coffee cake when they get together for a brunch meeting. Or he might have noticed that Derek likes anything with raisins (really? raisins?) so oatmeal cookies and cinnamon raisin buns might show up – the last getting two birds with one stone.

It gets trickier from there because Cora might be the only one more closed off than Derek and he only knows Derek’s tastes because he’s known him longer, from back when Derek didn’t have anything resembling a home and lived on canned goods and granola bars.

“Why are you asking about Cora? What’s it to you?” Derek asks, backing Stiles up against a wall when he asks what Cora likes to eat.

“It’s a really simple question, Derek, don’t make it sound like some plot to take over the country. What’s Cora’s favorite treat?”

Derek squints slightly, eyebrows coming together. He scowls (as usual) and finally says, “Chocolate. Anything with chocolate, the darker the better.”

“Dark like her heart, got it,” Stiles answers and smiles. “Hope that didn’t hurt you too much, big guy.” Stiles punches his arm and of course it hurts him more than Derek.

Derek scowls again and turns away, but Stiles has more ammo and plans what to do next.

 

Everyone likes chocolate, but not everyone likes dark chocolate, so the treats are definitely Cora’s. Bittersweet chocolate cookies with just a hint of espresso. Breakfast muffins, warm from the oven, filled with melty dark chocolate chunks that make Cora sigh. The hint of cinnamon gets him a smile from Malia as well, when she takes two so she can share with Kira.  Kira like fruity things and Stiles files that away for later.

Eventually, Peter does his usual creepy trick of sliding up behind him and asks, “Where’s my treat? Do you have something special to share with me, Stiles?” It’s creepy, and that’s why Stiles heart skips a beat. That’s all. The creepy factor.

“What makes you think you deserve something special?” Stiles asks, not bothering to turn and face him.

“You don’t think me blind, do you? You’re making treats for others, so I’m guessing, or at least hoping, you’d make something for me, Stiles,” Peter answers and his voice is definitely not a purr. And it doesn’t do anything for Stiles, nope, not a bit.

Stiles turns and Peter looks hopeful, although Stiles is sure he’d hate to hear that. Mere mortals aren’t supposed to understand the mystery of Peter Hale.  “Well, if – and that’s only if – I were to make you something, what would you like?”

Peter doesn’t need to think for a second before he answers, “Peanut butter. I confess a weakness for peanut butter anything.” He shrugs and maybe he looks a little sheepish.

Stiles _does not_ think it’s adorable. “I could possibly do something with that,” he answers. “You know that Jackson’s allergic to peanuts?”

“Oh. That makes me so very sad,” Peter answers, smiling. And he goes up another ten percent in Stiles’ estimation.

 

Stiles starts with peanut butter blossoms. A simple peanut butter cookie with a bit of chocolate set into the top while the cookie is still warm. Rather than a cheap “kiss” candy, he uses a much better quality chocolate, some milk and some bittersweet.  Cora takes a few, but recognizes that these are not specific to her. These are Peter’s treats.

Next follows peanut butter bars and finally a peanut butter cheesecake that leaves Peter shutting his eyes and sighing in a corner as he slowly licks the rich cake off his fork.

“What’s with all this peanut butter crap?” Jackson asks when Stiles enters with a pan of still-warm peanut butter brownies. “If you really want the role of pack mom, you need to be sure you’re providing things for everyone. I’d be willing to eat some normal brownies, so work on that, okay? Mom?”

No one sees Peter move across the room, they only see the result: Jackson slammed against the wall, feet dangling off the floor as Peter holds him up by the throat. His eyes glow and there’s a hint of fang as he says, “Contrary to what you might think, there’s no such thing as a ‘pack mom’. Depending on the individual pack, of course, things may be vary from pack to pack, but generally, if the alpha is mated to an omega, that omega is in charge of managing a lot of pack functions, including the meal schedule.” He lets Jackson stand on the ground, but doesn’t release the hold on his throat as he continues, “Since our alpha doesn’t have an actual mate, our pack doesn’t have an omega. If Scott and Allison were to eventually become a married couple, she’d be the ranking omega. If two in the pack have an omega as a mate, the higher ranking pack member’s omega is considered the higher ranking omega and is more likely to be the care taker for the pack.”

He finally lets go of Jackson, and takes a step backwards. “Of course, the right omega could also increase the standings of a beta in a pack. If it’s the right omega. But Stiles is none of those things. He’s a pack member who’s an omega. What he does, the things he does for us isn’t because he has to. He has no obligation to us to do these things. He does them because he cares. He’s kind and he cares for us and for that, you should learn a little respect, pup.”

Peter turns towards the door, grabbing the pan of brownies, shooting a quick smirk to Stiles as he leaves the loft.

“Derek! Are you going to let Peter talk to me that way?” Jackson asks, looking for support from the others.  There is none. Even Lydia rolls her eyes and turns away, suddenly interested in a picture on one of Derek’s bookshelves.

“Yeah, actually, I think I am,” Derek answers and shrugs. “You are kind of a douche, Jackson.  Hey, Stiles,” he says, turning to the human beta, “you should go say bye to Peter.”

Stiles is out the door before anyone can say anything else.

 

“Hey, Peter, wait a minute,” Stiles calls, approaching Peter’s car, idling in the parking lot. He could be gone by now, but it seems he’s waited.

Peter unrolls the window and leans out. “Stiles? I’ll bring back your baking pan, I promise.” His smile is so toothy and cheesy that Stiles isn’t sure if he should grin or roll his eyes. So he does both.

“I’m not worried, keep it as long as you want. I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. And for eating the brownies. And… for stuff.” He shrugs and feels his cheeks flush. “So just, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Stiles,” Peter replies and gives Stiles’ hand a quick squeeze. “By the way, Jackson likes things like molasses cookies and gingerbread. If you’re interested.”

Stiles sighs loudly and steps back from the car. “I suppose I should do something. It’ll just emphasize that he’s a much bigger dick than I am.”

 

It’s pretty easy to whip up a gingerbread Bundt cake as a peace offering for Jackson and he scarfs it up, grudgingly sharing with the rest of the pack. Stiles thinks it would be better as a dessert around Christmas or Thanksgiving, but everyone likes it and it makes Derek nod approvingly at his peace-making effort, so it’s a win all around. Stiles notes that Peter’s not around on that day. He misses him, but Jackson doesn’t.

 

While researching the next raisin option for the pack’s alpha, he calls Cora to casually ask a very casual question. “Hey, if I were to make something for Peter for dinner, what does he like?” he asks casually. So casually.

“For dinner? How do I know? Meat probably.” She couldn’t sound less interested.

“Wow, I would never have guessed that. Could you narrow it down maybe? What would be something unexpected that he’d like?”

He can almost hear Cora rolling her eyes as she sighs. “Why don’t you just shake your ass at him? He’d like that and you’d save yourself some time and money.”

Stiles rolls his eyes this time, and replies, “God, Cora, it’s not… I was thinking of a roast or something. You don’t know anything, there’s nothing you remember from family dinners or anything?”

“Our family dinners ended when I was kind of young, remember? Maybe ask Derek?”

“No, I don’t think so, I’d rather keep him out of this,” Stiles says, staring at the phone. It’s bad enough bringing Cora into this, but he really doesn’t want Derek’s comments. Even though Derek did send him to talk with Peter.

“How about Shepherd’s Pie?” Cora says a minute later. “There was one time when Peter was doing something with another pack and was gone for a couple of days. He probably had to kill someone. When he came back, Mom made him that for dinner. I have no idea what it is. Shepherd, so like lamb maybe?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Stiles says, already pulling up websites with varying recipes for the casserole, and ignoring the whole killing comment. Some recipes are lamb, some are beef and he tries to decide what the best option is. “So you just remembered that? Do you remember what the meat was in it?”

“Wait a second, let me ask Derek,” Cora replies.

“You asked Derek? I told you not to!”

“No you didn’t. You said you wouldn’t ask him. That’s called a loop hole, Stiles, I think it’s something you’re famous for. And you’ll be making me something special, too?”

Stiles sighs, because there’s no getting around it. “Yes, I’ll make you something. Sweet or not?”

“A flourless chocolate cake would be a good dessert with Shepherd’s Pie.”

“Nope. Dinner is separate and I’ll think of something that’ll be good with it. But you will get your cake,” he promises and hangs up, pulling up more websites so he can pick the best recipe and start planning his shopping list.

 

Stiles decides on one that’s fairly traditional, using roast beef. He buys a humongous roast and cooks it long and slow, roasting vegetables to make a dinner for himself and his father.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve this, but thank you,” Andrew says, pulling off another piece of the tender meat as Stiles puts the leftovers into a container to make Peter’s dinner the next day.

“No more veg left, Dad, I can’t believe we ate them all. As in I can’t believe you had third helpings of Brussel sprouts,” he answers, smirking at his success. He loves watching his father enjoy his food. Even if it means fresh fruit for dessert.

“Make them like that and I’ll eat them every day,” Andrew answers, reaching over to drag his finger though the smudge of gravy left on the serving plate. “I don’t suppose there’s enough leftovers to get a sandwich for lunch tomorrow?” he asks, looking hopeful.

Stiles smiles and says, “Yeah, of course. But a small one; you’re not getting some half-pound monstrosity.”

“And what’s the rest for?” Andrew asks, leaning against the counter as Stiles stacks tubs in the bottom of the fridge. He’s already scrubbed potatoes and they’re waiting for tomorrow to be cooked to top the casserole. “You upping the game from desserts to dinners?”

“Maybe? Yes?” He rubs his eyes and looks at his father as though he’s six and going to be judged.

Andrew pulls his son into a hug, squeezing until he feels him relax and just lets it happen. His dad gives the best hugs. “Did you buy the food yourself?”

“Yes,” Stiles answers, nodding against his father’s shoulder.

“Okay then.” He relaxes his hold a little, enough that Stiles could pull away if he wanted to. When he doesn’t, Andrew continues to hold him, considering it a gift; his boy will be moving away soon, either to college or to a mate or maybe both. “But when they buy the food for you to make, I get to meet her. Or him. Whatever.”

“Him,” Stiles says and now he does step away. He smiles at his father, glad they can still do this. “And yeah, you’ll meet him. If you want.”

“When an alpha starts courting you, Stiles, of course I’ll want to officially meet him.” Andrew dodges to the side to sneak one tiny piece of potato off the plate before Stiles does the dishes. “Take your time, though, there’s no rush.”

“I know, Dad, now get out and let me do the washing up,” Stiles says, putting dishes into the sink. That’s a weight off his chest, although he’s not sure how his father will react to Peter. That’s for another day.

 

He’s tasted everything as he puts it together. He layers the beef stew with carrots and peas in a thick gravy and covers it with buttery mashed potatoes. He tops everything a heavy sprinkle of cheddar cheese and cooks it until it’s all brown and bubbly. He agonized over corn in the stew, but decided against it, hoping that Peter’ll consider it the right decision.  He bakes up some rolls, nothing fancy, but they’re ones that he knows are good, shiny with a buttered top and a hint of rosemary and parmesan. Maybe not the traditional accompaniment, but they’re delicious. Everything gets loaded into an insulated cooler and he drives over to Peter’s apartment, hoping the wolf will be home. And that he’ll be welcome there. With his official courting gift. Because fuck it, he’s courting Peter Hale.

 

The door to Peter’s apartment is open when Stiles walks down the hallway from the elevator. And of course, Peter’s leaning against the door jam, small smile on his face. He shuts his eyes and sniffs, something that he normally doesn’t do in front of other pack members. His face is puzzled as he says, “I’m not sure what it is. Beef something. It smells good.”

“It is good, so let me in,” Stiles answers, shouldering his way past Peter and depositing his load on the kitchen counter.  Now he’s not entirely sure what to do, as he pulls out the casserole, rolls and a covered dish with a peanut butter cake with chocolate frosting.  He shrugs and says, “So…I brought you dinner.”

“I can see that,” Peter responds, suddenly very close behind Stiles, a solid wall of heat. Muscley heat. He checks his watch and says, “Seems like dinner time. Will you be joining me?”

Stiles stops and takes a breath, trying to decide. This isn’t what he planned; it’s a little bold. Although it makes sense for Peter to invite him to stay. And they’ve eaten together with the pack. And honestly, that would be the next step. “Sure, I’d like that. Where’s plates?”

Peter points to cabinets, letting Stiles get out the needed dishes and silverware. He carries the serving dishes to the dining room table, watching as Stiles sets everything out. “It seems nothing needs heating?”

“Nope, it’s all ready.” He glances downwards and says, “Thanks for inviting me to stay, you didn’t have to.”

“Of course I didn’t _have_ to,” Peter responds, going back to the kitchen. “I wanted to. What would you like to drink?” he asks, head buried in the fridge. “Beer? I think not. Best not to upset your father more than necessary.” He comes back and puts one beer on the table and a bottle of Coke at the other place setting.

“This works, thanks.” He sits and takes Peter’s plate, giving him a serving of the casserole, along with a roll.

“It looks delicious,” Peter says. He takes a bite and shuts his eyes with a sigh. “It’s perfect, Stiles. Best I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it,” Stiles replies, taking a bite himself. It’s as good as hopes, and he eats, while half watching Peter power through a second helping.

“You made the rolls, too?” he asks, using part of one to sop up the leftover gravy on his plate.

“Yup, made everything,” Stiles answers, hoping he’s got a good tone between factual and bragging. Because it is good and he is proud.

Peter nods, looking at the roll as though it’ll tell him its secrets.  “Yeast intimidates me.”

“Yeast?” Stiles asks, because, well, it’s Peter and nothing intimidates him, at least nothing Stiles has ever seen. “Yeast is small and friendly and good for you.”

“Well, it’s apparently friendly to you. Dinner was delicious, thank you, Stiles.”

“Sure, you’re welcome,” Stiles answers, feeling his face flush. “Let me put the dishes in the kitchen and we can…”

“No need to do that, you cooked. Taking care of the dishes is the least I can do.”

After Peter directs him to the couch, Stiles sits, looking around the apartment. It’s tidy, as he expected with a lot of books around, on tables and in tall bookshelves. One wall is windows, facing a small wooded area, and Stiles thinks that Peter would be the one to find a tiny bit of wilderness in his city apartment.

“Coffee?” Peter asks from the kitchen, where he’s fiddling with a very complex looking machine.

It’s tempting. Eating a good dinner, letting someone (an alpha) make him coffee, sitting on the couch, just relaxing with nothing much to do other than some good conversation and…

“No, I don’t think so.” Stiles turns and looks at Peter and for a moment, he thinks there’s a flash of regret on the man’s face, which absolutely shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat. “Thank you for the offer, but I should probably go, you know. I just wanted to make you dinner and…”

“I understand,” Peter answers and smiles gently. Of course, he’d know the rules of courting; Stiles isn’t sure if it’s strictly alpha courting or werewolf courting or a mixture of the two, but he’ll accept it gladly. And it’s nice that Peter’s not being pushy (or homicidal), which really isn’t the best way for an alpha and omega to court each other, even with their questionable history.

“Do you think…” Peter starts and then stops, looking at Stiles as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Think what?”

Peter watches as Stiles moves around him, casually packing up a few things to take home. The leftovers, dinner, rolls and cake, he’ll leave for Peter and he covers things back up. He’ll let Peter put things away where he’s most comfortable. Stiles has already made himself at home in the older man’s kitchen.

“I had gotten you a present. Just something small that I saw and it made me think of you. Should I go get it?”

Stiles grins and shrugs. “A gift? I wouldn’t mind a small, appropriate gift.”

The box is unwrapped, but has a small red ribbon on it and a tag from one of the nicer men’s stores a couple of towns over. Stiles rests it on the dining room table while he pulls off the ribbon, takes off the lid and pulls back the white tissue paper.  Inside is a sweater, softer than anything Stiles has owned. Lightweight, with a v-neckline that’s not nearly as deep as anything Peter would wear. The back is black and the front is black, white and several shades of gray.  And plaid. It’s a plaid sweater.

He pulls it out of the box, and can’t stop himself from holding it up to his face. “It’s so soft,” he coos, cuddling it like it’s a kitten.

“I should hope so; it’s cashmere.” Peter answers, smug look on his face. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” Stiles holds it up against his chest and says, “It looks like it’ll fit.”

“Try it on,” Peter suggests. He leans against the back of the sofa, arms crossed over his chest.

“Turn around,” Stiles says. Which he knows is stupid. By this time, they’ve all seen each other in various states of undress. But somehow, this feels different.

And Peter does, he turns his back and Stiles does as well (just in case) stripping off the striped hoodie he’s wearing and pulling the sweater over his head. It fits perfectly, just snug enough, but not the second skin that Peter would wear, which would make Stiles uncomfortable.

He glances over his shoulder and Peter’s back is still turned. And yes, maybe he’s facing the bank of windows, but he’s doesn’t seem to be looking. “This is really nice,” Stiles says, turning back around.

Peter turns and his smile is warm and genuine, not his usual smirk. “It looks good on you. You like it?”

“Yes. And it’s plaid. I thought you hate plaid.”

“But you don’t,” Peter says. “And I wanted you to like it.”

“I do. But I’m not sure where I’d wear something this nice…”

“Anywhere. You shouldn’t save things for a special occasion. You can make the occasion happen by looking nice,” Peter answers. He stays a fair distance away, just looking at Stiles, with a warmth in his eyes that Stiles isn’t used to. Not even when he doles out his desserts to hungry werewolves.

“I know Lydia will appreciate it. She may try to take it from me. Or maybe if it weren’t plaid,” he says, and he can’t stop petting his arm.

“I think she might be willing to call it argyle, if she’s in a good mood. But you like it?”

Stiles shrugs and says, “Yeah, of course. It’s soft and it’s plaid and…it’s from you.” He looks away, suddenly too shy to meet Peter’s eyes. “You got me plaid, and you could have gotten me something you like.”

“I do like it and more importantly, you like it. It’s a gift for you, I wanted it to be what you want.” Peter steps forward and uses one finger under Stiles’ chin to turn his head towards him. “So, do I have permission to court you, Stiles?”

Blushing, Stiles nods and whispers, “Yes. Please.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Peter replies. He cups Stiles neck for just a moment and then drops his hand stepping back. “I think you’re going now?”

He nods and says, “Yeah. My dad’s expecting me.”

Peter reaches around him and opens the door, stepping back to be sure he’s not blocking the door. He’s being a very careful, very respectful alpha. And Stiles stomach flips in the best way. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

 

When he gets home, Stiles can hear his dad’s upstairs in the bathroom. Which means he can do a quick drop off in the kitchen and get into his room before his dad knows he’s home. Which seems like a good idea because he really doesn’t want to discuss this new, fragile thing with his father yet.

So of course he meets his father in the hallway just outside his bedroom. “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in,” Andrew says, just before Stiles is able to escape notice.

“Yeah, I just got in a few minutes ago. Cleaned up in the kitchen and think I’ll go to bed,” he answers, trying to turn towards his room.

“How’d it go? He impressed by your dinner?”

There’s no way this would be easy. “Yes. It was good. I stayed and had some, too. It turned out good, I’ll need to make it for us sometime.” His eyebrows scrunch up as he tries to plan a meal for his father. “Maybe I can figure out how to do it with chicken breasts.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’m sure you will, although no one ever argues with beef.” Andrew pats his son’s shoulder and Stiles starts to mumble his good nights when Andrew says, “This is new, isn’t it? I don’t remember you wearing this when you left. And frankly, it’s nicer than anything you own.”

Shit. Stiles shrugs and says, “Yes, it was a gift. It’s cashmere. It’s really soft.” He pets his own arm again, lost in the feel of the soft sweater, and maybe thinking about Peter giving it to him.

Andrew adjusts the shoulders of the sweater, gently straightening the neckline. “That’s a nice gift. Should I assume that your offerings of food are well received?”

Stiles feels himself blush and says, “Yes. I think we’re courting. I know we are. We’re courting.”

“Yup. Yes, that’s what it sounds like. My son is courting an alpha. Hale, huh?” Andrew says, stepping back and giving Stiles a once over that makes him blush.

“Yes. And don’t be mad, okay? And I’m being courted back. I mean, I wasn’t sure that he would, but…” He looks down at his sweater, and smiles. “Yes, I’m being courted back. We’re courting each other.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a plaid cashmere sweater. Or that someone would get it for you.”

“Me either, but he said he wanted to get me what I wanted and not what he wants me to wear,” Stiles says, smiling as he thinks back to his evening with Peter. They’ve spent more time together on other days than they did tonight, spending hours researching how to save their pack from the monster of the week, but somehow this was different.

Andrew sighs and holds out his arms and Stiles falls into them as easily as he always has. His father is his first alpha and he’s always been a comfort to Stiles. Even when he wasn’t able to be completely honest with what’s happening with the supernatural world, he’s known he has his father’s undying love. Maybe they’re still rebuilding the trust, but the love is a constant.

“Okay, so I’m not saying weekly dinners, because I don’t think any of us could stand it,” Andrew says into Stiles’ hair, as the boy rests his head on his father’s shoulder.  “But once, he’s got to come over once. And until you’re eighteen, there’s no…” he pauses and takes a breath. “Intimacy. You’re still too young to formally take a mate and while I know you’re not a virgin…”

“Dad!” Stiles exclaims and pulls out of Andrew’s embrace, feeling his face flame.

Andrew shakes his head and looks away, small smile on his face. “Thin walls, Stiles. And I’m not stupid. So I expect the two of you to behave and follow the rules of courtship. So no sex until you’re eighteen and you formally choose each other. Suppressants until then, right?”

“Okay, Dad and right, I intend to keep on suppressants. And I think that’s okay, really, he’s pretty old fashioned about this sort of thing. I think,” Stiles answers, looking away as well. He and his dad have talked about a lot of things, but his eventual mate? That’s something he talked about with his mother a million years ago.

“Good. I like that.” Andrew shakes his head and says, “Never thought I’d appreciate something like that from Derek Hale.”

Stiles freezes and hopes nothing shows on his face. “Yeah, who’d’ve thunk? So night, Dad!”

 

“Oh my god, oh my god, Lydia, pick up!” Stiles stares at his phone as he stalks around his room, which doesn’t take very long, it’s only six paces in one direction and eight in the other.

Lydia answers with a brusque, “What, Stiles? Someone better be dying. Although I’d know, so why are you calling?”

“Yes, it’s me, and I’m dying, Lydia, I’m dying.”

“Where are you, what’s happening?” she asks, and he can hear the edge in her voice.

“Okay, not literally, I guess. Not yet, not until my dad kills me.” He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, trying to keep the panic from edging in. “So, um, I don’t know if you know, but I’ve been kind of courting someone…”

“Of course, Peter. Which is gross, but it’s your life,” she replies. “And your father knows and he’s going to kill you?” He can almost hear the shrug as she says, “Well, that makes sense. Although I would think he’d go after Peter.”

“No, he doesn’t know. He thinks I’m courting Derek. And he’s okay with it, so now I need to tell him that I’m not courting Derek, that it’s Peter!”

“Oh. Okay, then you should go tell him,” she replies, as though it’s no big deal.

“How do you suggest I do that, Lydia? He’s not thrilled with the thought of Derek.”

“How were you going to tell him? Wait until you give birth to his grandchild and hope he figures it out when Peter’s there? And the baby has a goatee? Should I continue?”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just stays slumped on the floor.

“Just tell him.  Go tell him now,” Lydia commands.

“He’s probably asleep,” Stiles says, hoping to hear a snore from next door.

“So wake him up, it’s important. Do it now before he says something to Derek and it gets worse.”

“Oh god, that would be horrible. Not to mention Peter’d hate it,” he says, scrambling to stand. “Okay, gonna go do it, thanks, Lyds.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know tomorrow – tomorrow, Stiles – how it goes,” she says and hangs up before he can say anything else.

 

Stiles listens outside his father’s closed bedroom door. There’s no snoring, but he might be falling asleep and he certainly needs as much sleep as he can get. Then he hears a drawer shut and the bed settle meaning he’s definitely still awake. Shit. 

He knocks quietly and whispers, “Dad, are you still awake?”

The door opens quickly and his father’s standing in his boxers and a t-shirt. There’s a little fleck of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth and he must see Stiles looking at it as he brings up a hand to scrub it off. “Yeah. Everything okay?”

“Got a few more minutes to talk?” he asks and Andrew steps back into his room gesturing for Stiles to enter.

 

Nine o’clock is about the earliest that anyone would go to Lydia’s house and Stiles is there just a few minutes after. She opens the door, taking in his rumpled appearance and the dark circles under his red eyes.  She takes the box from her favorite bakery and lets him in. “I guess it’s not the right day for homemade treats?”

He follows her into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. “No, but I did get your favorites.”

She pulls out a cheese-lemon Danish and sets it on a small plate, pushing the box towards Stiles. “I take it it didn’t go very well when you explained to your father he’s thinking of the wrong Hale?”

“Good guess, Lydia,” Stiles replies. He looks in the box and shakes his head, pushing it back towards her. “I was really calm and explained that it’s Peter, not Derek and he’d jumped to conclusions. And then he spent the next hour telling me how Peter’s terrible and shouldn’t be anyone’s alpha, especially not his son’s.”

She uses the side of her fork to cut off a small piece of the pastry, chewing carefully and swallowing before she answers. “And you said what?”

“What can I say to that? He’s right, objectively, Peter’s terrible.”

“Um hm. He did bite Scott. And me,” she says, raising an eyebrow as she sips her coffee.

Stiles drinks the rest of his coffee and goes to the pot to refill his cup. “Yes, and Dad pointed that out. And that he killed a bunch of people, including his niece.” He shrugs and sits back down. “I reminded him that the majority were the ones who killed his whole family and what would he do if someone killed me and Mom and his mother.”

“And?”

“He understands, but says there’s too many others that weren’t guilty – like Laura.”

She pushes away her cup and purses her lips. “It is hard to understand Laura. That’ll always be a hard one for people to accept.”

Stiles nods and make sure he has eye contact when he says, “But do you understand? He was injured and his pack left him. If his alpha had stayed with her injured packmate – with her family – he probably wouldn’t have gone as crazy. She shouldn’t have left.”

“I understand that, I do, Stiles. Logically, I can understand it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I’m sure Derek knows it, but it doesn’t make it easier for him.”

He puts his head on the table and looks over at her, his first crush. “What do _you_ think? I mean, he harmed you. He bit you and then he continued to fuck you up. I know you can be in the same room as he’s in, but could you be okay with us together?”

“Head off the table, Stiles.” She studies him for a minute when he sits up. “That’s a nice sweater. It’s new?”

His face softens and he brushes his shoulder with his cheek, smiling softly. “Yeah, it was a gift from Peter. A courting gift. He said he thought you’d approve, it’s…gargoyle?”

She snorts and says, “Argyle. That’s the print. The material is cashmere.” She leans forward and touches the sleeve, nodding approvingly. “It smells a little like him, you know? His cologne. Or is that you?”

He shrugs and smiles, saying, “Does it? I mean, I think it does, not his cologne, but it just smells like him. Maybe from being around me or touching me or something. Doesn’t it smell great?” He tucks his nose into the neckline and sniffs, smiling as he lifts his face.

Shaking her head, she says, “I think it smells fine, Peter’s always had nice cologne.” She finishes her Danish, and gets up, taking the box and putting the other two on a plate that she covers with plastic wrap. “If you end up with Peter, I suppose I’ll learn to live with it. Because you’re my friend and I know he won’t hurt you. I won’t love it, but it’s not my life, is it?”

“Thanks, I think. I guess it’s better than my dad’s reaction.”

She sits back at the table and studies her friend carefully. “Did your father specifically say that you couldn’t court each other?”

Stiles thinks for a minute, running the conversation over in his head. “No. Not exactly. He said he was upset and it’s a terrible idea, but he didn’t say we couldn’t.” He gasps quietly and smiles, saying, “He didn’t forbid it! He’s not in love with the idea, but he didn’t forbid it!”

“I’m guessing he didn’t approve of it either?” Lydia asks, taking his half-full coffee cup along with hers to the sink.

“No,” he says slowly. “He certainly didn’t give his blessing, but he didn’t say we couldn’t.” Lydia watches her friend think through his options; of course, she’s already miles ahead of him, but he’s smart and he’ll catch up.

“If he didn’t specifically say no, I’m going to go ahead. He could have completely refused, he just yelled a lot.”

She nods and asks, “Did he say he wants to talk to Peter or anything like that?”

“Originally, when he assumed it was Derek, he said he’d have to come over for dinner. Boy that’ll be fun with Peter there,” he says, sighing. “But that means I’ll make something with lots of beef; that always makes Dad happy!”

“I’m still not sure what the appeal is, but…”

“The appeal?” Stiles asks, leaning forward, taking her hand. Yes, he had a mad crush on her before he presented, but now she’s just one of his closest confidants. “Lydia, I know you’re not an omega, but can’t you … his smell? He smells so so good.”

“Luckily, I get to miss that,” she replies and gently pulls her hand away. “So the first thing to do is probably to tell Peter you’ve told your father. In case they run into each other. The second thing is, do you know how to clean that sweater? You can’t just throw it in the washer with all your other clothes, you know.”

Stiles nods, pulling out his phone. “Okay, I’ll google it or something. And tell Peter, that’s probably good, he should know.” His face falls and he asks, “What if…what if he’s changed his mind? Or maybe he was just teasing or something?”

She shakes her head and grabs his arm, leading him towards the door. “He’s not teasing or pretending, anyone could see that. He’s alarmingly sincere. It’s a little disgusting to be honest. But I think all alphas and omegas courting is a little strange.” She kisses his cheek and opens the door, pushing him onto the front porch. “Go let him know, remember the sweater and I like lemon meringue pie. Have a good day, Stiles.”

 

So first stop will be to Peter’s to let him know his dad knows. Not that he thinks anything will really happen with his dad, or that Peter can’t take care of himself. Or that Peter would hurt his father, because he knows how important family is to the wolf. But he should know and he told Lydia he’d tell him first thing.

He parks outside Peter’s house and Googles how to clean his cashmere sweater (hand wash with gentle detergent? Like in the bathroom sink?) as he enters Peter’s building. And he promptly runs into Malia just outside the alpha’s door.

“Stiles? I could ask what you’re doing here, but I know what you’re doing here,” she says. She’s got a hand on her hip and her eyes flash at him, which is never a good sign.

“Umm. I’m here to see Peter? Why are you here?”

She grabs his arm and drags him back to Peter’s apartment, pulling out a key to let them both in. “I’m here to see my father, too. You remember, he’s my father, Stiles?”

“Wow, you have a key to his apartment? Is he here?” he asks, looking over her shoulder into the room. He hasn’t heard Peter and he’d probably come out by now if he were home. “Why do you have a key?”

“He gave me a key because I’m his daughter and he wanted me to have a place to come to if I needed some time away from my dad.” She sits at the dining room table and sniffs the air, all the time staring at him. “And I come here today and the apartment _stinks_ of you!” She glares at him and points, “And I know you didn’t own that when we were dating, even I can tell that’s nicer than your regular clothes. And it smells like Peter.”

“Umm, yeah,” he says, looking down at his sweater. “I was here yesterday. And Peter gave me this.”

She snorts and looks away, shaking her head. “Kira told me that she thought you were dating. I told her you wouldn’t do that, because you’re my ex-boyfriend. But you are, right? You’re seeing each other?” She looks at him with such accusation in her eyes, that he almost feels guilty. Almost.

Instead of guilty, he decides to let himself get mad. Between his dad and now Malia, it’s like no one thinks he knows his own mind. He’s an omega and he’s made his choice. Sure, Peter might not be the conventional best choice, but he’s the best choice for Stiles. “Malia, you broke up with me, remember? You didn’t want to be with a male and you broke up with me. I don’t think I need your clearance on who I’m courting and I know Peter doesn’t either!”

Her jaw drops and she raises both eyebrows, shock on her face. “Courting? You’re courting each other? Like…like mates?”

“Yes, exactly like mates,” he says. And suddenly he’s smiling, because he hadn’t said that out loud before. He’s been thinking of courting and of course he knows what that means, but now he’s really thinking about it. He and Peter could be mates and be together and maybe have children someday.

“Oh god, stop thinking about it.” Malia holds her nose shut and opens the kitchen window, taking a huge breath of fresh air. “I didn’t know you were thinking of him like that, Stiles, I thought you were just fooling around with him. Like we were.”

Stiles sits on the dining room chair, the same one he sat in last night for dinner, his back to Malia. “No, it’s not like that. We’re not fooling around at all; we’re taking it slow, but we’re courting. Each other.”

She sits across from him again and studies him carefully. “I know we broke up, but I do still care about you, you know.”

He nods and watches her think. All the Hales show every thought and every emotion on their faces, and  Malia’s no exception.

“And in spite of myself, I guess I care a little bit about Peter. He’s pack, if nothing else,” she says and looks almost embarrassed to admit it.

There’s no point in being annoyed. She didn’t know Peter until recently and frankly, acknowledging him as pack is more than some of the others will do. It’s hard for him to stay mad at Malia, there’s still affection for her, even though now it’s like he’d have for a sister.  “So do you think you can be okay with this? It won’t change anything if you say you won’t be, but…”

She sighs loudly and moves towards the door. “I guess it’ll be okay. I mean, it doesn’t really affect me, does it? He’s not really my father, he was just the guy with the sperm.”

“I guess that’s about as much of an endorsement as you can give, right?” Stiles pulls her in for a hug, and of course it’s like hugging a log, which makes him smile. She’s never been the most tactile person, at least not with him.

“Hey!” she exclaims, pulling away from him. “When you two have a kid, it’ll be my half-sibling!”

“Oh my god, that’s a million years off!” Stiles turns her around and pushes her back towards the door. Now he just needs to wait for Peter to come back.

 

When his second text to Peter goes unanswered, he has to decide what to do. He could leave and find Peter later, but he doesn’t really want to go home and risk talking with his dad again. He wanders into the kitchen and unstacks the dishwasher, looking in all the cabinets to be sure he’s putting things away where Peter wants them.  After that, he yawns and wanders around a little more, finding himself in Peter’s bedroom. It looks inviting and comfortable and of course it smells amazing, surrounding him in the smell of _safety-alpha-Peter_.  He’s pretty sure Peter won’t mind if he takes a nap, after all, he lost sleep last night because of him. He strips down to his briefs and wiggles his way under the covers, almost overwhelmed by the scent that’s both comfort and sex.

It’s clear that Peter mainly sleeps on the right side of the bed, that’s where his scent is most obvious on the pillow and sheets. Stiles is more of a middle of the bed guy, but he supposes he could get used to taking the left side. Which makes him grin and blush alone in the room, thinking of his side of the bed. He pulls the other pillow over and hugs it, knowing he’s going to leave his scent all over it. Especially when he curls up into it, with part tucked between his knees.

Everything’s pretty comfortable and he’s certainly due a nap, but he wants just a little more. He jumps out of bed and opens the closet finding what he’s looking for – the laundry hamper. He pulls out a Henley and there’s also a few t-shirts (no surprise there) and carries everything back to bed. The Henley becomes his sleep shirt and the other items are all around him, under the covers as part of his cushy nest. For a few minutes, everything’s perfect in his world and exhaustion overtakes him and he falls asleep.

 

“Well, well, well.” The voice wakes him up and Stiles hears, “So who’s been sleeping in my bed?”

“Wrong fairytale,” he answers, yawning. “That’s a bear, not a wolf.” He unburies himself a bit and says, “Hope you don’t mind. I came over to talk to you and you weren’t here and I needed a nap. I texted you a couple of times.”

“Yes, I got them, sorry I didn’t reply. Things got a little busy.” Peter sits on the side of the bed, and leans over to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

“You don’t mind I’m here?” Stiles asks, moving his head to follow Peter’s hand.  He’s not sure which one of them sighs contentedly.

“Of course not, you’re always welcome here. It’s just a bit of a surprise,” Peter answers and gestures to the bed. “Mind if I sit? I promise to behave, no matter how enticing you smell.”

“Please do. It’s your house and your bed,” Stiles says, watching Peter gingerly sit against the headboard.  “Are you okay? You look…I don’t know, like you’re sore? Do werewolves get sore?”

“I had a bit of a rough morning, actually. You were texting me this morning. What about?”

Stiles’ eyes grow wide and he says, “I told my father about us last night and wanted to tell you that. He’s a little concerned, but he didn’t say we couldn’t court each other. Please tell me that’s not related to why you’re moving so carefully.”

Peter lifts up his shirt and shows Stiles a scar on the right side of his stomach. “It’s healing now, and I’ll be fine. I spent most of the day at Derek’s house, recovering. I think it might have been a kidney. I am fine though,” he says, pulling his shirt down and resting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “When you said he’s concerned – he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“God no, not at all! He yelled and I yelled and he cried and I cried, but he’d never lay a finger on me.” Stiles sits up and clasps Peter’s forearm. “But he did that to you? What did he do?”

The wolf sighs and leans back again, getting comfortable. Stiles can see the bit of pain on his face and pets his arm, offering whatever comfort he can. “I left here to go to the grocery store thinking I’d get things to make _you_ dinner. And I ran into your father before I got there. And he kind of shot me.”

“Peter!” Stiles tries to pull his shirt up to look at the wound, but Peter stops him with gentle hands.

“I’m fine, it’s healing. It wasn’t wolfsbane, it was a regular bullet. I must say, I do see where you get some of your attitude from, after spending time with him.”

“I’d never…well…”

“Exactly, you both do what needs to be done, don’t you? He wasn’t in uniform and it wasn’t his service weapon.  And he specifically said he has wolfsbane bullets, but wasn’t using them.” Peter slides down the bed, so he’s lying face to face with Stiles. “He did suggest that if he shot me in the head, then probably any bullet would work.” He shrugs and says, “Probably true, but I admit, I told him that would be a waste of his time. Hopefully he believes me.”

“God, Peter, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t think he’d do anything like that,” Stiles whispers, pushing part of his pillow (Peter’s pillow) over to him so they can share. “I never thought he’d do that stupid ‘hurt my kid and I’ll kill you’ stuff. I’m so sorry.”

Peter sniffs the pillow and his eyes flash for a moment. “Hmm, I’m sure you didn’t know he’d do that. But that’s not actually what he said. It was kind of what I expected as well. But he told me that if I let anything hurt you, then he’d kill me. And my family and anyone I even remotely like. I guess I should be flattered that he wouldn’t think I’d hurt you.”

“I’m still sorry. That’s so wrong and I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, and I’m almost healed. Your father did drive me to Derek’s loft and then kicked me out of his car.  That was nice of him. And I’m home and you’re here, which is a very nice surprise,” he says, moving slightly closer.

“Maybe you should get under the covers and nap with me?” Stiles’ grin is more wicked than sleepy.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tempt me,” Peter replies. “I still want to court you some more.”

“You do? Okay, I’m okay with that.” Stiles is pretty sure he’s grinning like an idiot, but that’s okay because Peter looks pretty giddy as well.

“Stiles, are you on suppressants? For your heats?”

He freezes, suddenly very aware that what he’s doing is probably not appropriate. At least his father wouldn’t think so. Curled up in a blanket on the couch is one thing, but in an alpha’s bed, is probably overstepping. Although overstepping is kind of what he does.  “Yes. Yes, and I’m going to stay on them at least until college. I really don’t think I want to go into heat while living with my father. Is that a problem?”

Peter shakes his head, and visibly relaxes. “No, that’s good. It’ll give me some time to take you out on proper dates. And I’m glad you’re planning on college, I’d like to have someone intelligent to talk with later in life.”

“Gee, thanks, for the vote of confidence.” Stiles looks away from Peter and takes a breath. “How about kids? Do you want any?”

“Kids?” Peter asks, visibly brightening before he turns cautious again. “I think so. Honestly, yes. I’d like a child. Or children. What about you?”

“Well my thought is I don’t want an only child, ‘cause I’ve been there. And two is almost the same, there’s only one person to be buddies with. Three could be two against one, you know? So four is the right amount. Or six.”

Peter doesn’t quite squeal when he asks, “Six?”

Stiles shrugs. “Four then?”

“Or six. I’m okay with a large family - I came from a large family.” He grins and shrugs. “Good thing I have family money if we’ll have six children.”

“Eventually, maybe. I don’t want to have any until I finish college. Does that work for you?”

Peter’s quiet for a long moment and finally says, “Stiles, anything you want is okay with me. College. Kids or no kids. Live here or move to Tibet.  We’ll figure out what we want to do and do it. Okay?”

Stiles grins and moves closer to Peter, burying his face in the wolf’s neck. “Okay, alpha. Now I need more sleep and you need to rest and finish healing.”

“Bossy omega,” Peter snorts and nips Stiles’ neck.

“Yes, alpha,” Stiles answers. Then he shuts his eyes and sleeps, safe and secure in his future with his alpha.


	2. Chubby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's obvious that Peter's been spoiling Stiles. Which makes Peter happy and Stiles a bit insecure.

Peter slips another slice of pizza on Stiles’ plate, along with a small cup of ranch dressing for dipping the crusts.

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers, nudging his mate’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t forget, I made brownies for dessert,” he tells the group, who are all shoveling food into their mouths. “Milk chocolate, with dark chocolate chunks. No nuts.”

“You left some for us? Thanks,” Jackson says with a snort.

“Of course. What does that mean?” Stiles asks, stealing a piece of bacon off Peter’s pizza. Which makes Peter put a couple more pieces on his plate.

“Just surprised that you didn’t eat all of them.  Looks like you’re working on it,” Jackson answers and Scott shoots him a look that should make him shut up, but then again, Jackson’s a douche.

“What does that mean?” Stiles looks over at Peter.  “Is he saying… Is he saying I’m fat?”

Lydia punches Jackson in the arm, hard, and says, “No sweetie, you’re not. You may have gained a pound or two, but that happens when an omega mates. Getting ready to get pregnant and all that.”

“Have I?” he turns to Peter and asks, panic on his face and in his smell. “I know I’ve been eating a lot, and you’ve been buying me stuff and…”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Allison says, from her place in between Scott and Isaac. “It’s to be expected with omegas. We gain a couple of pounds getting ready for a heat.” She holds up her hand and says, “I know, you’re on suppressants and not doing that yet, but the body still gets ready a little. It holds on to weight for the times when…well, when we’re too busy to eat.” She grins and pats her flat stomach. “I know I’ve gained a pound or two.”

“It doesn’t show on you,” Jackson says and looks back to Stiles. “I’m thinking more than just a couple on you, my friend. I’m not trying to be mean or anything, but… I’m just saying out loud what everyone else has been saying.”

Stiles looks around the room and sees the pack avoiding his eyes; even his bestie, Scott, won’t look at him.

“Derek, I’d like to kill one of your betas, is that okay with you?” Peter asks the pack’s alpha, glaring at Jackson.

Derek takes another slice of pizza before he says, “Peter, I’ve told you before, if anyone gets to kill Jackson, it’ll be me.”

“Hey!”

 

Peter and Stiles filed their bonding papers as soon as Stiles graduated from high school. They could have done it a couple of months earlier, when Stiles turned 18, but in deference to Andrew, they agreed to wait. Now they’ve been bonded for more than two months and it’s just a couple of weeks before Stiles goes off to college.

Andrew still isn’t thrilled with Peter, remembering his murder spree and madness, but he can see how Peter’s taking care of his boy. His tuition is paid at UC Berkeley, all books are paid for and Peter’s gotten an apartment just off campus. The apartment has two bedrooms in case Andrew wants to stay over and the living room will have a pull out sofa, in case there’s even more guests. Peter’s bought all the clothes Stiles will need for his year in damp and chilly Berkeley and even more.

Stiles shows Andrew the laptop that Peter gave him. “It’s like the best thing ever, Dad. I could probably make movies on this or possibly launch rockets to Russia. I’m telling you dad, I got a little woody just starting this up.”

“That’s way more than I needed to know,” Andrew says heaving a sigh.

And any craving Stiles has is instantly filled. Now that Stiles is living in Peter’s apartment, he only needs to think of something he’d like to eat and it appears.

 

Stiles is still on his heat suppressants, but even with them, the sex is good. It’s very good. Even without a true heat and Peter’s knot, Peter makes sure Stiles comes several times in a night. And Peter’s exceedingly, if quietly, proud of himself for taking care of his mate.

“I think I threw out my hip that last time,” Stiles says, wiggling in the bed, stretching out his muscles. “So do you think I’m getting fat? Honestly.”

Peter looks at him and leans over to kiss him, dragging one finger down his bondmate’s chest. “I think you’re perfect. You’re more beautiful than the day I met you and you continue to get more beautiful every day.”

Stiles snorts and gently punches Peter’s shoulder. “Oh you, you’re just blind. Seriously, look at this.” He rolls away from Peter and slaps himself on the ass. “I’m getting a round butt. And I swear I’m getting hips.” He flops over on his back and sees Peter’s eyes bright werewolf blue. “You would think that’s good. Is that what this is? Wolfie taking care of his mate? I’m getting a double chin!”

“You’re perfect, what can I say? You look like someone’s taking care of you finally,” he answers, shrugging as he runs his hand down Stiles’ side. “You look like an omega who has mate who cares for him.”

“Lookit this,” Stiles says, pinching a bit of skin over his hipbone. “I didn’t used to have this. Look at my belly, I have a little tub.”

Peter cups the small curve at the bottom of his belly and makes a noise that some might describe as a purr. “I told you, you look like someone’s taking care of you. Think of what you’ll look like when your belly is full of our cubs.”

“Weirdo,” Stiles answers, contentedly. “You’re not repulsed by me, I guess?”

“Stiles, honestly, if you want to gain a hundred pounds or lose – well, not a hundred – but if you want to lose weight, it’s fine. I’ll always think you’re perfect.”

Stiles sighs and curls under Peter’s arm, letting his alpha trace a finger over his chest. “I was thinking that when I go to college, I might let my hair grow long. Like over my shoulders. And maybe wear it in a braid. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds lovely, if you’d like that,” Peter answers, tweaking a nipple.

“And maybe shave the sides of my head. And I could get skulls tattooed on the sides.”

Peter kisses his temple and says, “If you want it, I’m in favor of that.”

“And I could wear blue denim overalls. Really big ones, without a shirt.” Stiles sighs and turns his face up for a kiss. “They’d be big enough to go around my fat ass and big belly.”

“If you’re comfortable wearing those, I’ll buy you some,” Peter says, letting his hand drift on Stiles’ ass crack.

“Or maybe I’ll go back to my crewcut. That was easy to take care of, you okay with that?”

Peter nods against Stiles’ head and says, “Good idea when you start college, make things easy. Sounds lovely to me.”

“And wear a dress. Or a skirt. A mini-skirt. T-shirts and a pink mini-skirt so my fat butt shows. What do you think?”

“I think there’s colors more flattering to you than pink, but if that’s what you’d like to wear, I’m fine with it. As long as you’re comfortable and happy. That’s what makes you beautiful.”

“And a beard, I can try to grow my beard again. Of course, I’m terrible at growing a beard, so it’ll be just a neck beard. With my mini-skirt. Think that’ll fly in Berkeley,” Stiles asks, grinning up at Peter.

“Probably,” Peter answers, inhaling Stiles’ happy scent. “Are you thinking Doc Martens or high heels? Either would be nice.”

“Doc Martens, of course, I have to walk around campus,” Stiles answers, snorting. “With thigh highs though, cause I’m a classy omega.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m fine with it. But I think a crop top would be good so your tummy shows.” He turns Stiles towards him and tilts his face until the younger man focuses on him. “Stiles, I’ve told you, you cannot be unattractive to me. But if you’d like I’ll buy healthier foods for us, for the next couple of weeks we’re here and then when we move. No more taco chips and ice cream and we can take a walk after dinner. And remember, when we get to Berkeley, we’ll both be walking more around the city and as you said, you’ll be walking all over campus.”

“I suppose so,” Stiles says, sighing. He leans forward and kisses Peter before he slumps back on the bed, throwing a leg over his mate. “If we walk more, can I still have ice cream?”

“You can have whatever you want, you know that. It just depends on your goals,” Peter says, scratching his claws gently up and down Stiles’ back. “I do have one question, though.”

“Hmm?” Stiles mutters, relaxing into sleep.

“Any chance you want to wear the thigh high stockings just because?”

Stiles kisses his shoulder and chuckles, “Less ice cream and more lingerie? I can do that, alpha.”

 

 

 

 


	3. College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is in college and Peter's there with his omega mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but now it's turning into my fluff festival.

The entire college experience, in just two words, is freaking awesome.

The house Peter picked out is a small duplex on a quiet street a few minutes from the campus. It’s roomy, like he promised, so their friends can stay over if they’re visiting. Peter’s made sure it’s comfortable, with lots of soft, squishy furniture and fluffy blankets left everywhere, so Stiles can curl up in a nest of blankets.

Their kitchen is small, but Peter’s added a few extra high-end appliances that enable him to create delicious meals. True to his promise, they’re both cooking and eating healthier, because that’s how you take care of your mate.

Stiles’ classes are interesting, once he’s finally decided what to take. After years of high school and being told what classes to take, it’s a little overwhelming trying to narrow down his selections. But as Peter says, he has years and there’s nothing that says he has to limit himself.

And Peter’s right, there’s a lot of walking around, both around the Berkeley campus and Berkeley itself. Then there’s going into San Francisco.  Stiles never thought of himself as particularly sophisticated or unsophisticated – he just never gave it a thought. He knows he’s a small town boy, but with knowledge of the supernatural, he felt he had a little bit up on regular humans. But San Francisco amazes him with all the bustle of a truly big city. The first time they drive into the city for an afternoon of sight-seeing, he stands downtown, looking up at the skyscrapers and turns to Peter, grabbing him into a hug. “Thank you, Peter. Thanks for choosing me.”

“Silly boy,” Peter says, kissing Stiles’ temple. It’s wolf scenting human and alpha scenting his omega and it makes Stiles grin and blush in the middle of the city street as people hustle by them.

There’s more alphas in San Francisco than Stiles is used to, but with Peter at his side, he’s not too uncomfortable getting a second look or seeing someone’s head turn, both men and women, nostrils flaring as they pass. No one is too impolite and after a while, he feels okay giving a small smile back. Peter doesn’t even get upset; it’s not obvious flirting and after all, he’s the one with the handsome omega tucked under his arm.

Oh, there is food and lots of it. They go to five star restaurants in and around the city and Stiles wears the suits and ties Peter provides and eats the tiny portions of beautifully plated foods put in front of him. Who knew how well white tablecloths suit him. Apparently Peter.

And then Peter takes him to food trucks to try other things. He learns to enjoy more ethnic foods than he knew existed as they queue up to different trucks. “I like this,” Stiles grunts around a mouthful of taco stuffed with spicy beef and kimchi. “Can you make this?”

Peter scoffs and pushes half of burrito towards his mate. “No, but we can come back here. Or try another one on another day.”

“Burgers.” Stiles gestures over his shoulder to another truck. “Next time I’m getting one of those monster thingies with the fried onions and jalapeno poppers on it.”

“Don’t forget the cupcakes,” Peter says, pointing at another truck, painted bright pink.

“Ugh,” Stiles says, sighing, as he pops the last of his taco into his mouth. “I’m going to need to do a lot of walking this week.”

“If you want. You know I think you’re perfect.”

 

Castro Street is a little overwhelming, the sexual vibe much more obvious. Even taking his suppressants, and weeks away from his heat, Stiles is glad he’s there with Peter as he gets oogled and jostled when they walk the street. They stop in a few shops, looking for magazines and items to decorate their home, along with a couple of sex toys that make Stiles grin and flush thinking of going home with Peter.

“That’s not the way to be ignored,” Peter whispers, biting his ear lobe gently. “Your scent is divine, and everyone in this store envies me.”

“I doubt that,” Stiles whispers back, as he puts a frighteningly large dildo back on a shelf. He taps a few more, including one with a large knot, just to watch Peter’s eyes flash and says, “Flavored lube? Let’s try a couple.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” Peter replies, leading Stiles down another aisle, past another man who shuts his eyes, sniffing deeply as they pass.

“You like this, showing me off,” Stiles whispers behind him.

Peter cages him in with his arms, Stiles’ back against the tall shelf. “Yes, I do. Because you’re coming home with me. Do you mind?”

Stiles shakes his head and says, “No, because I know I’m safe with you, my wolf.”

“Let’s get you home,” Peter answers. They grab several bottles to try, a reward for another successful day walking through the city.

 

Stiles picks out a dance club South of Market and they both enjoy it for the one night, but Stiles doesn’t know that he wants to do it too often. The vibe is almost too sexual; maybe it’s the full moon in a couple of days combined with his approaching (although suppressed) heat. Whatever it is, he can feel Peter’s increasing tension as he grinds against him. He wiggles until Peter’s thigh is between his legs and Peter growls into his ear. “You’re getting wet, I can smell you. Am I going to need to take you into the bathroom take care of you?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s time to go home.” Stiles kisses him, muttering into Peter’s mouth. “Unless you _want_ to fuck me in the bathroom, with a bunch of other alphas watching.”

Peter growls again, and Stiles sees his eyes flash bright blue from under half-closed lids. “We’re getting a hotel for the night.”

 

They’re at home after a long week of classes and papers due, relaxing on the couch with HGTV on the television. They’ve seen the shows before so they don’t need or want to watch; it’s just color and a little noise in the background.

“You’re thinking again,” Peter says. Stiles is lying on his belly, sprawled on top of Peter, head resting on Peter’s chest. Peter scratches his scalp, tugging gently at the hair curling on his neck. It’s past time for a cut, if Stiles wants to keep the look he’s had for the last couple of years. Maybe he is intending to let it grow long so he can put it in a ponytail.

“It happens sometimes,” Stiles says. He looks up at Peter and says, “I really don’t know what I’m doing at college. What am I supposed to be studying? I don’t know exactly what career I want. Should I?”

“You’re 18, Stiles. You don’t need to know what you want to do for the rest of your life right now. Take classes that interest you. Learn things you’re curious about. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Stiles sighs and puts his head back down, nudging Peter’s hand so he continues with his petting. “You’re not disappointed that I don’t have a career plan yet? I had planned to go into law enforcement like my dad, but when I presented, that was off the table. I know I want to do something. I think I could have a career and raise kids. Maybe I should just be a parent and house husband?”

“You can if you’d like,” Peter tells him, wrapping Stiles’ curls around his fingers. “I certainly won’t object; raising a child is tiring and many people feel it’s a full-time job. I have family money and a job and we certainly won’t starve.”

Stiles pulls back a little so he can look at Peter when he asks, “What exactly do you do? I mean, I know in general that you sell used books and things, but really…what do you do?”

Peter sighs and focuses someplace over Stiles’ head.  “I find special, lost items for a certain specialized clientele.”

There’s silence as Stiles thinks what this means, but fortunately, he’s become attuned to Peter-speak. “You sell black market supernatural things? Is that it? How did you start doing that?”

Peter grins, proud of his smart mate. “Someone asked me if I knew of a book and it happened that I did. So I bought it from person A and sold it to person B. Who told a friend, who told a friend.” He shrugs and says, “Soon, people were coming to me if they wanted to get rid of items or if they wanted to find items. And since it matches my interests anyway, I kept at it.”

“Hmm, see, that’s what I want. I want to do something that I’m really interested in. I am interested in learning more about supernatural things; I kind of have to, since apparently it’s my life now. Do you need an apprentice?”

He looks so hopeful, lying on Peter’s chest, propped up on one elbow so Peter can look into his brown eyes. So sincere, although Peter knows he can pull out the doe eyes whenever they’re helpful to get his way. “I suppose I can come up with a few projects you can help with. It would be good to have some research help.”

Stiles pushes himself back, sitting up so they can talk. “That’s my forte. What can I do? How do you get clients? Tell me everything.”

“Everything will take a bit of time, dear heart, but basically I get clients from referrals from my other satisfied customers. Someone tells me they want a certain book or item and I work to find it.”

“Okay, makes sense, you can’t exactly put out an ad on Craig’s List.” Stiles’ eyes go wide and he says, “Website? Do you have a website? I can make one for you.”

Peter sighs, leaning forward to kiss his mate. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sure you could keep it well hidden from most, but there are people who could find it who might not be fans.”

“No, no, I could do a real good job keeping it…”

“Hunters, Stiles. I really would prefer that I don’t lose my life because I’m trying to find a book for some Egyptian witch. Below the radar, my love, always way below the radar.”

Stiles nods and sighs, thinking back to so many close calls, all their history together and how they got this far. It wasn’t pretty, but if they’d met at a bar, they probably wouldn’t be together now. “No, nothing that can be traced then.” He leans forward and gives Peter a quick kiss on the lips. “This is exciting, I’m looking forward to this. You’ll have to tell me everything. What’s your degree in, did you take classes for this stuff?”

“My degree, technically, is in art history, but like you I picked a lot of things to study. Don’t forget, I had a lot of time to waste with Talia as alpha,” Peter says, rolling his eyes as he thinks back on his college years.  

“Okay, well I’m already doing that. What should I study?” Stiles rocks back and forth on the couch, looking and smelling excited and happy.

“History, as much history as you can get, any and every time period. Art, languages. If you’re really interested, we’ll figure out what classes you should take; we can work it into a degree.” Peter smiles and can’t keep himself from pulling Stiles forward, so he’s back in Peter’s arms. “We’ll go to the DeYoung this week and I’ll show you some hints in the pictures there.”

“Hints? What…”

“We’ve lived throughout history and there’s always been those who’ve known about us. And sometimes, in art, there’s information.  You look at a simple portrait of a woman and there’s a book on a nearby table that can be a clue of what to look for. Flowers in a vase that the artist shouldn’t be aware of. Animals that aren’t quite right for where the picture was painted.” Peter whispers this into Stiles’ ears and nips his earlobe, making the man shiver and twitch.

Stiles turns his head so he can kiss Peter, moving from slow and gentle to more urgent. “I’m interested in all of this, but you do make it hard to have a discussion.”

Peter slips his hands under Stiles’ shirt, leaving gentle scratches down his back. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Umm, no. Maybe. Just for a second,” Stiles says, moving back and pulling his shirt back down, which only serves to whuff the scent of _sexmatesex_ into Peter’s nose. “I do want to talk about something. And you make it difficult to talk sometimes.”

“I’m all ears,” Peter replies, leaning back and taking a deep breath. Which doesn’t really help as the smell of Stiles’ arousal is still heavy in the air. “What do you want to talk about?”

“We’re going back to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving, right? It’s just a couple of days for the break and I promised my dad, right?”

“Of course,” Peter says, nodding. He and Andrew will never be best friends, but Andrew does seem to appreciate how well he treats Stiles, and polite is enough for now.

Stiles grins and takes Peter’s hand. “He doesn’t hate you, so just stop it. He’s actually starting to…to tolerate you. So anyway, we’re going home for Thanksgiving, but then pretty soon after that is winter break, which is much longer; I think it’s almost a month.”

“Um hm,” Peter answers, kissing Stiles’ fingers. Talk of his father can certainly wait.

“So I’m thinking that rather than go back immediately, we spend the first week of vacation here. Have a little ‘us time.’ What do you think?”

Peter looks up and smiles broadly. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea. First week here, come back early before school starts again. Either or both, I’m all in.”

“What do you think if I stop taking my heat suppressants on the last day of school?” Stiles asks, rubbing across Peter’s lip with his thumb.

“You’d go into heat?” Peter says, distracted by both Stiles’ thumb and his words. Why would Stiles want to stop taking his suppressants?

“I’m going to just sit here for a minute and let you catch up.” Stiles sits back, crossing his arms and smirking until a light goes on in Peter’s eyes. Literally as they turn their bright werewolf blue. “And now he’s got it! What da ya think, wolf? I’ll keep on the birth control because I’m too young to a parent – especially now that I’m starting a new career. But a little heat in the winter?”

Peter leaps across the sofa and has Stiles scooped up and over his shoulder without him even seeing Peter move. “I think tonight we’re ordering in and everything else in the world can wait.”

Stiles hangs upside down and slaps Peter’s ass as he’s carried towards the bedroom. “Good idea, alpha, we’re both full of good ideas today.”


	4. Preparing for Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready for Stiles' heat and important discussions about preparation and what's okay.

Peter’s in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a pan of lasagna when he hears (and smells) Stiles enter. “How was your last day of class, Precious? You’re free now until, when? January 6?”

Stiles melts into his arms with an exhausted sigh. “January 7. So that’s what, three weeks?” He stays still, letting Peter run his hands soothingly over his back, helping ease their tension and put his scent all over him. “What have you been doing?”

“Trying to put together a few things that we can eat over the next few days. Judging by the smell, I assume you didn’t take your suppressants today?” Peter asks, pulling away and studying his mate.

Stiles nods and Peter hears his heart skip. He raises an eyebrow and Stiles sighs again. “Actually, I didn’t take them yesterday either. I wanted to be sure my heat started so we could have it and still get to Dad’s for the holiday and…” he blows out another sigh and shrugs.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asks, putting the back of his hand on Stiles’ forehead. “Your forehead feels warm. Are you getting chilly?”

“I’m okay,” Stiles answers, shrugging. “I just feel a little…antsy? School was kind of weird, I had a hard time concentrating. This might not have been my best idea; I hope I did okay on the final.

“I’m sure you did fine,” Peter tells him and sits Stiles on a stool by the kitchen counter. “Here, have some juice. Or would you rather have tea? Or both?”

“’Kay, thanks. And juice, please, I am thirsty.” Stiles wiggles on the chair and downs the glass. “I think some of the alphas could tell, I was getting some strange looks. And one guy kind of scented me in the hallway. It was weird.”

Peter knows his eyes flash; he can’t help it. “Your scent is stronger. And yes, I can smell that there were other alphas around you. Since you seem okay, I won’t kill anyone.”

“Hmm, thanks,” Stiles hums, keeping a small smile. His alpha is so possessive and he honestly loves it. “So what have you been doing? It looks like you have dinner going a little early?”

“I thought we’d order in for dinner tonight. I’ve just put together things for the next couple of days.” Peter opens the fridge and stands back so Stiles can look at the dishes stacked on the shelves, all covered with foil. “There’s a breakfast casserole, and the lasagna. Mac and cheese with ham. And a pork roast marinating that’ll go in the slow cooker one morning. That should hold us with just a few other things thrown in.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of food. We’ll eat all that?”

Peter chuckles and taps Stiles on the nose. “All that and more. Heat builds up an appetite. There’s also lots of fresh fruit for snacking and frozen fruit so I can get you a quick smoothie if that’s all you’ll take. I did cheat and get brownies and cookies from the store. I can’t bake as well as you so I don’t even try.”

Stiles grins, proud that there’s something he excels at. Right now, it feels like Peter’s doing all the caretaking and that feels strange to his omega nature.

Peter comes around the counter and tilts Stiles face up towards him. “You shouldn’t worry so much, love. This is your heat and I want to take care of you.”

Stiles rubs his cheek against Peter’s palm, letting himself be calmed down. “I know, it just seems weird. Selfish. I should be taking care of you, you’re my alpha.”

“And any other time, I’d be glad to let you. But this is the time that I need to prove to you that I’m a good, stable mate who can take of you and our cubs,” Peter says, kissing his forehead. “Not that we’re looking for cubs right now, but you get the idea.”

“You’re okay with no cubs – babies, they’d be babies, Peter – right now?” Stiles asks, pushing himself into Peter’s arms.

“Absolutely. I think it’s a little too early for either of us to think about children. We have plenty of time.” Peter holds Stiles stay in his arms for a minute, enjoying the cuddles, while checking his temperature. “Do you want to see what I did in the bedroom?”

“What did you do in the bedroom?” Stiles asks, taking Peter’s hand and letting himself be led down the hallway.  

“Black out curtains, which we should have had before and I don’t know why we didn’t,” Peter says, pointing. “New lamps, with dimmers. They turn on when you touch the base.” He turns down the comforter and pushes Stiles with one finger until he sits on the bed. “New sheets, 1000 thread count. Hopefully these are soft enough for your tender skin, my love.”

“I’m delicate, sorry. But these are nice,” Stiles says, petting the bed next to him. “Is the bed extra bouncy or something? Padded?”

“There’s three sets of bedding, with heat pads under the sheets. Makes it easier to change the sheets, I can just pull off the sheet and pad and we have clean, dry ones.  And there’s two sets in the guest room, so when these are in the wash, we can be in there,” Peter answers, opening the bedroom window a crack as Stiles’ scent increases. “Sound good to you?”

“Three sets in here?” he asks, grabbing the sheets in a way that makes Peter’s mouth go dry. “Will we use three sets during my heat?”

Peter tries not to smirk as he sits down next to Stiles, placing a hand on his knee. “Honey, we’re probably going to go through three sets each day. Heat sex is intense, damp and messy.”

“I know,” Stiles says quietly, reaching over to flick the lamp on and off. “I mean, I think I know. I thought I knew. I have extra slick and you’ll… well, you’ll come buckets, right? Buckets of come to get me knocked up.” He sighs and leans his head against Peter’s shoulder. “I hope I’m ready for this. Are you ready for it?”

“I am. I want to take care of you through this, Stiles. And no knocking up this time, we both know that.” He puts an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and gently pulls him into another hug. Stiles could easily move away if he wanted to, but he relaxes into Peter’s embrace like he was born for it. “I think we could take you to a doctor and they might still be able to give you an injection to stop your heat. Do you want that?”

“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head against Peter. “I want to have a heat, have it with you. I’m just a little nervous, I guess. I mean, I’ve watched some alpha/omega porn and some of it…” he shudders elaborately.

“And that’s why you shouldn’t watch porn, Precious, it can be kind of scary. But did you see anything you liked? Anything you want to try or anything you absolutely don’t want to try?”

Stiles thinks for a minute and sits back. “I like the knotting parts, I think. I mean…that’s supposed to be great, right?”

Peter nods and says, “When you’re in heat, if you’re on birth control or not, you’ll want that. It’s biology. I don’t think there’s a way to have a heat and not want to be knotted.”

“Okay. I do want that. Umm, but not in my mouth or my ass, okay?” he asks, shrinking away slightly.

“In your…” Peter sighs, shutting his eyes briefly and says, “Again, why you shouldn’t watch porn or at least not _that_ porn or don’t watch without me. That’s advanced heat, Masters level heat. For us, it’s heat 101 this time.”

“I’m kind of scared of losing control, Peter. Not just from porn, but from everything I’ve read or we talked about in school, the omega is kind of…” Stiles shrugs and blushes, looking at Peter from under half-closed eyelids.

“Heat does lower inhibitions, along with increasing your sex drive. But honestly, you aren’t that inhibited now when we’re in bed. At least not that I can tell.” Peter tilts Stiles’ face towards him and gives him an appraising look. “Do you think you are?”

“No, not really. I’m just kind of afraid of embarrassing myself. Saying stupid things.” He’s quiet for a moment and whispers, “Asking you to breed me.”

Peter leans close and brushes his lips against Stiles’. “It’s not embarrassing between mates, nothing is. It’s like Vegas – what happens in a heat, stays in the heat. But you can tell me what you like and what you don’t. Is there anything that you want to do or probably more importantly, anything you absolutely don’t want to do?”

“I think I like what we do, I’m all for more of that. And the knotting, of course,” Stiles answers quickly.

“You’re okay if I suck you off while my fingers are inside you?” Peter asks, taking a sniff of the air around them, getting heavy with Stiles’ heat.

Stiles flushes and the scent gets stronger. “Yeah, I like that. But um, in my heat, maybe you could…” he shrugs and scratches his head, the way Peter knows he does when he’s getting overwhelmed. “Maybe stick with my omega bits or my – my non-omega bits? And not going back and forth?”

“Okay, make sense. Go for the outside, your cock and ass or the inside only, your clit and your cunt. No mixing. I can do that,” Peter answers, nodding seriously, making sure Stiles sees and hears him agree.

“God, I know that’s so beta-normative and I shouldn’t care, but for the heat…”

Peter shakes his head and kisses Stiles’ forehead. It’s warmer than before and there’s a slight sheen on his face. “That’s fine, darling, and no worry at all. If you’re not comfortable with that during your heat, we don’t do it. And don’t worry, if there’s any questions, I can ask you in between bouts of your heat and we’ll talk things over.”

Stiles snorts and says, “Like I’ll make a lot of sense. Heat, right?”

“Well, there’s usually times when you’ll be pretty much yourself. That’s when we can talk and be sure you’re okay, get you and the bed cleaned up, eat a bit. We won’t be just having heat sex constantly for the next five days.”

Stiles nods and yawns. “That’s good. I think that’s what’s kind of scary – not being me for almost a week. That would be scary, right?”

“I’d hate it if I completely lost you for a week, but I promise, it’s not quite like that. We’ll still be able to talk. And if you ask for something while we’re having sex and I’m not sure it’s what you want, we’ll talk about it when you’re more aware,” Peter says. During this time, he’s pulled Stiles off the bed and coaxed him to take off his shirt and toe off his shoes.

“Meaning what?” he asks, undoing his pants and stepping out of them.

“Let’s say, I’m blowing you and you say ‘put your fingers in my cunt’ – well, I won’t do it then, but after, when you’ve rested and eaten, I can ask you if you really want me to. And if I don’t think you’re really able to answer, I’ll still with what you’ve just said and won’t do it.” Peter turns down the blankets and guides Stiles back to the bed. “And with that said, I think the next step is you take a nap. Then after that, we’ll get you into the shower and I’ll get you a light snack. Work for you?”

“I was going to take a shower first,” he answers, yawning as he settles back on his pillow. “Get the smell of school and everything off me.”

“I know, but I think you’d fall over in the shower, so this’ll do. And with your clothes off, you smell like you again.” Peter stands back and looks at his mate, who’s already rolled on his side, face buried in his pillow. Peter put a couple of his used shirts under the covers and Stiles has one clutched in his hand, up against his chest.

Peter bends down, smoothing back the hair sticking to Stiles’ damp forehead. He thinks they’ve talked and planned as much as they can. And now they’ll have their first heat together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like third-gender omegas where male omegas have both sets of genitals. If you don't like it, don't read it.


	5. After the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' heat is done and he's a little surprised about how he acted. But what happens during a heat, stays in the heat.

When Stiles wakes up, he’s a bit confused as to where he is. And what’s been happening; everything seems a bit fuzzy.

He stretches and realizes he feels fine, only slightly drowsy and muscles a little sore. It’s “his” room – the room he sometimes studies in and they keep spare items in. Not quite the junk room, but close. He reaches over on the bed and Peter’s gone, his side cold.

Stiles rolls over, pulling Peter’s pillow towards him, enjoying his alpha’s scent. He breathes it in, shutting his eyes to get a little more sleep. He’s not sure what time it is, thanks to the black-out blinds. He sighs, and thinks of the last few days, his first full heat.

 

Peter taking care of him, giving him sips of juice even when he didn’t want it, trying to push him away.

Stiles presenting himself, ass up in the air and legs spread, something he’d seen in movies, but didn’t think he’d ever do.

Peter carrying him from one room to the other, to the clean bed and then going back to strip the bed they just left so they can be on clean sheets.

Peter’s chin wet with slick, looking at him from between Stiles’ legs, making sure he’d come until he was exhausted.

Squirming on Peter’s lap with his knot buried inside while he moans, “More, Alpha, knot me, give me more!”

Over and over, demanding more and harder and again again.

 

He feels the blush on his face as he thinks about it, how demanding and needy he was. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he was an absolute tyrant. Of course they’d talked about spending Stiles’ heat together and planned for it, but Peter probably didn’t expect him to act like that.

Stiles slowly stands up, stretching his muscles, feeling an ache like he’s been working out – which in a way, he has been. He pulls on a t-shirt and sweat pants and makes his way into the living room looking for Peter, just a little nervous.

 

“Good morning, Stiles, nice to see you awake.” Peter’s in the kitchen, coffee cup next to him, flipping pancakes on to a plate. “I was going to wake you up in a few minutes to eat breakfast. I wasn’t sure you’d be up and I thought you might want breakfast in bed.”

“No, I’m up.” Stiles moves carefully around Peter to get to the coffee maker and pours himself a cup, edging back out of the kitchen to sit at the table, with a slight wince. “Thank you for making breakfast. I’ll be able to do it tomorrow.”

Peter sets a plate in front of him and takes a step back, studying his mate. “If you’re up to it.” He sits across from Stiles, hands wrapped around his coffee mug. “It’s normal to feel tired and maybe a little sore after a heat. You’ve used a lot of energy and probably strained some muscles. It can be an athletic event.”

Stiles nods and takes a bite of his food. Peter’s a good cook, especially for breakfasts; a Sunday morning feast is his specialty. “I’m okay, just tired, like you said.”

“Are you sure that’s it? Your scent is off.” He cocks his head and visibly scents the air around them. “You’re sad? Regretful?” Reaching across the table, he takes Stiles’ hand and says, “Tell me? Please. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not you! I’m just…I was horrible, Peter. I was bossy and demanding and didn’t consider you at all! Is that normal? That can’t be normal, people wouldn’t want to have a heat with anyone if it were,” Stiles answers, and lets his head thump down on the table.

He looks up when Peter chuckles, hand over his mouth and the crinkles around his eyes that Stiles loves.

“What? Why are you laughing? What’s so funny?” Stiles demands, slamming his coffee cup on the table.

“Oh, darling,” Peter say, putting two more slices of buttered toast on Stiles’ plate. “You were a perfectly normal, healthy omega.  It’s what happens during a heat. You’re allowed to be bossy and to say what you want. It’s expected. And as your alpha, it’s my job to give you what you ask for and try to anticipate what you want.”

“So that’s normal? God, I keep remembering things… kind of flashbacks?” He rubs his eyes and sighs loudly. “You’re not mad or disappointed or anything?”

Peter wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses his temple. “No, I’m not disappointed at all. I thought you were wonderful and perfect. Everything I could ever have wanted in my omega mate.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, tilting his head up for a gentle kiss. His moods seem so up-and-down, but Peter’s told him that’s part of the heat.

“Yes. It was four days of knot-eat-sleep. Knot-eat-sleep. Knot-eat-sleep.” Peter says, grinning and quickly moving out of the way as Stiles reaches out to slap him.

“Really? Oh god, how humiliating.” Stiles puts his head back down on the table and thinks he could nap.

“Knot-eat-sleep and do it again,” Peter says, petting Stiles’ head. “But you did eat and sleep nicely. Although next time you have to make some brownies or something before your heat. You didn’t like the ones from the bakery.”

“I didn’t? I don’t remember eating them,” Stiles answers, leaning his head into Peter’s hand.

“You didn’t eat them. I gave you a bite and you spit it out and looked at me like I betrayed you,” Peter says, snickering again. “It was kind of adorable; you looked like an angry, disappointed puppy.”

“Lovely, glad you enjoyed it.” Stiles sits up and makes a face at his armpit. “Ew, I stink.”

“I did bathe you, and we took a shower together once.” Peter smiles and shrugs, “But of course that turned into knot-eat-sleep.”

“You’re laughing at me and that’s not very nice.” Stiles picks up his dishes and sidles past Peter, going to the sink. “Did you laugh at me a lot during my heat?”

Peter hugs him from behind, kissing his neck and trying to get the suddenly hurt-angry smell off him. “I laughed and you laughed, too. You’ll remember a bit more, your pheromones are still going down. But you enjoyed it and we both enjoyed it.” He turns Stiles towards him, tilting his chin up so he can look into his mate’s eyes. “Are you okay? I hate you being angry with me, especially now. It makes me want to wrap you up in a blanket or something.”

“I’m okay,” Stiles answers, and hugs him back, squeezing Peter as hard as he can. “I am remembering bits, but so far, it all seems embarrassing.”

“You can go back on suppressants if you want. You’d have to have a heat every couple of years, but otherwise, we don’t have to do this again. It’s completely up to you,” Peter says, peppering Stiles’ face with kisses.

Stiles turns his face to catch Peter’s lips in a kiss. “Thank you for letting me decide. And thank you for taking care of me. We don’t have to decide right now, do we? Maybe give me a couple of days to see how I feel about it later, okay?”

“Absolutely,” Peter says, kissing back, feeling Stiles grind a little against him.

“Okay, so I guess I am a typical omega,” Stiles says, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder, letting the wolf snuffle at his neck. “Oh my god,” he says, pushing away, his eyes huge. “So my dad knows what we did? How I acted?” He gasps and says, “Oh no, my mom acted like that? Oh man…”

“And that darling, is why we say what happens in a heat, stays in the heat,” Peter answers, pulling Stiles’ back against him. “Now, how do you feel about taking a shower? I think we could both use one.”

“Umm, yeah, we can do that,” Stiles answers, shifting so he can rub against Peter’s leg. “But maybe we can have one more turn in the bedroom?”

Peter turns so he can back them up down the hallway, “See, you are clever and I think that’s a great idea.”

“This one I’ll remember, I’m sure,” Stiles says, taking his shirt off and pulling Peter on the bed. “My alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is done! If I add anything, it'll be how an alpha/omega couple live in daily life. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this exercise in fluff!


End file.
